ind means to send Robin news of the household, and tell him whether
Fitzwalter returned as the latter promised.

So all safeguards that wit could devise were taken, and Robin, having
kissed her little fingers very tenderly, left Marian with her cortege,
upon the road by Gamewell, and having satisfied himself that all had
gained safe entrance to Nottingham, journeyed back to the caves at
Barnesdale with quiet mien. His heart told him to suspect some evil
plot--yet where could he find one? Scarlett, his own cousin, had brought
the letter, and Marian had recognized the writing.

Oh, how dull the caves and the woods seemed without her! Tuck and the
miller had employed themselves in cooking them all a royal dinner; and
Stuteley tried his best to lighten the gloom. Robin laughed with them,
and sought to hide his grief, feeling it to be unmanly.

But never had he enjoyed a feast so little in the free woods as this
one. Good food and good company he had, but not that salt with which to
savor them--a merry heart.

CHAPTER XXVII

The autumn ripened into winter. Allan found means to send Robin news of
them often: Master Fitzwalter had not returned; but had sent another
letter saying that he would do so ere long. They all were happy and
unmolested in the city. Of the Sheriff and his daughter they had seen
nothing. That Warrenton was well, and that they had gotten them a
man-cook and other servants.

Marian wrote little crabbed messages to him. Brief and ill-spelt as they
were, they became Robin's chiefest treasures. Marian forebore making any
attempt to see her love, for fear that she might be watched and
followed, and so bring about Robin's capture. She fretted sorely at this
restraint placed upon her by Allan's more prudent hands.

The demoiselle Marie had made a miscalculation. She knew that presently
Robin would seek Marian, even in the lion's mouth. _Then_ would come the
day of the Sheriff's triumph.

The little house of the Fitzwalters was spied upon from within. No one
bethought them of this new cook. Had Little John once espied him there
would have been a different tale to tell, however.

He had offered his services to Warrenton at a small premium, saying that
he had lost his last place with being too fond of his bed.

He said his name was Roger de Burgh, and that he came of good family.
The wages he asked were so small, and he seemed so willing, and had been
so frank as to his failing, that Marian bade h